


Memory Box

by AngelWritesThingz97



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Child Abuse, Gay Keith (Voltron), Keith and Shiro are Adoptive Siblings, M/M, Multi, Past Child Abuse, klance, shallura voltron, thace will probably show up eventually, this isnt a slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2018-12-07 07:38:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11618982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelWritesThingz97/pseuds/AngelWritesThingz97
Summary: “Now, once I call out your groups, I want you all to come together and come up with your topic, alright?” Coran explained, looking through the packet.“Yes, Professor,” The class answered in unison.-----“Pidge, you’ll be with Hunk,” Coran called out after listing about six groups before them.Pidge and Hunk looked at each other, clearly frustrated that they didn’t get their respected usual partners.“If you touch my computer, you’re dead, Garrett,” Pidge hissed under their breath.Hunk shrunk in his seat and leaned away from Pidge.“Keith, you’ll be working with Lance,” Coran called afterwards. He gave the two a stern look. “And don’t rip each other’s throats out, please.”Lance spit-taked his caramel-mocha latte with extra cream and sugar, and Keith’s head shot up from the table.TLDR: Lance and Keith get paired up for a class project but they hate each other. Keith has demons, Lance has demons, Keith won't tell lance his demons, problems occur. Established relationship probably around the middle of the fic.





	1. Who am I paired up with?

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: This fanfiction is centered around the fact that Keith Kogane and Takashi Shirogane have an alcoholic adoptive father. He is abusive while drunk. If this is something you dont find comfortable reading, then feel free to read my other fanfiction: The Good in Us! Less abuse, more slow burn, more team bonding! The only down side would probably be the slow burn.
> 
> This fanfiction is not a slow burn and will eventually have sex scenes in it. Again, if you don't want to read that I'll put a note at the top so you can skip the chapter and everything will basically have no effect on the story itself.
> 
> Other than that, enjoy the fanfic!

Lance never liked Mondays. His day usually consisted of an early morning lecture—  _ worst _ idea he’d ever decided to go with— another lecture right before lunch,  _ lunch _ , then he had a lab in the afternoon— but the rest of his day was left to his own devices. No lectures or another lab, the rest of his Monday was free to himself.

 

He still hated Mondays. He was never a morning person, and to make things worse this  _ douchebag _ always made an effort to piss on his day.

 

Keith “Mullethead” Kogane. The guy was a total  _ dick _ with no real regards for anyone else but himself. It was a wonder how the guy hadn’t been kicked out of Balmera Tech. Every morning, specifically Mondays, Keith would ride his bright red motor bike as fast as he possibly could  _ specifically _ when passing Lance and somehow always timed it  _ just right _ where he always went over a puddle and splashed him. 

 

And it didn’t stop there, oh no. Apparently Lance shared lab with Keith, the gremlin that was Katie “Pidge” Holt, and luckily his best buddy, Hunk. For some reason that Lance didn’t know  _ why _ , Keith would give Pidge rides to lab on his bike and  _ always _ made sure to show up there the  _ exact _ second that Lance and Hunk did. Now, this wouldn’t be so bad if  _ Mullethead _ didn’t always give him dirty looks when he took off his helmet, that same dirty face with dozens of piercings such as snake bites and an eyebrow piercing— not to mention his ears that were basically covered from top to bottom in piercings. 

 

The gremlin wasn’t any better and usually gave a snarky grin before getting off the bike. They always seemed to wear the same old, ragged aviator cap and goggles probably taken from their grandpa. Lance shared a couple lectures with them, and while he offered his friendship, the gremlin wasn’t gonna have it.

 

“What is you _ fucking _ problem?!” Lance said one day.

 

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe your loud mouth?” Keith retorted, putting his helmet under his arm after locking up his bike.

 

“Hey!” Lance growled.

 

“Come on, man; he’s not worth our time,” Hunk said, a hand on Lance’s shoulder.

 

“I mean, Keith has a point,” Pidge said as the two walked into the lab room. “You’d learn more if you didn’t always chat during lectures.”

 

“I don’t chat all the time during lecture!” Lance argued, following behind.

 

“I think you’ll find you  _ do _ , McClain,” Pidge replied with a sly grin.

 

“Then what about  _ you _ , mullet?” Lance started bitterly. “Starting fights all the fuckin’ time!”

 

“Yep,” Keith replied simply. After putting his helmet on the floor, he casually turned his normal seat around and sat on it backwards. “And I really don’t care.”

 

“You smell; you know that?” Lance retorted, walking towards his own seat on the other end of the room.

 

“Does it  _ look _ like I care?” Keith replied louder with a deadpan look.

 

“You’re an asshole,” Lance shouted, slumped in his chair and kicking his feet onto the table.

 

“Come up with something more original, would you?” Keith retorted, his forehead on the back of his seat. “The whole ‘asshole’ thing is getting boring.”

 

Pidge pulled their seat out next to Keith and sat down. “Okay, Keith; take it down a notch,” They said.

 

“He started it,” Keith muttered.

 

“Doesn’t mean you always need to retaliate,” Pidge muttered back. “Look, it’s just  _ one _ lab every Monday and you always blow this thing up every time.”

 

“Tired,” Keith grumbled.

 

“I mean, that can be fixed if you just—!”

 

“Not doing that,” Keith muttered, lifting his head.

 

“Keith, you are in some deep water right now,” Pidge said quietly so no one could overhear them. “If you just move in with Shiro and Allura—!”

 

“I can’t do that,” Keith replied.

 

“You mean you won’t,” Pidge corrected. “You  _ can _ , you just won’t,” They repeated. “He’s beyond help, Keith.”

* * *

 

“Can you  _ believe _ that guy?” Lance complained after lab was over, throwing his arms in the air. “What even is his  _ problem _ ?”

 

“I have no idea, dude,” Hunk replied. 

 

“I mean, he  _ always _ starts it, giving me dirty looks all the time and going  _ out of his way _ to run over a puddle just to hit me with dirty water!” Lance continued.

 

“Look, it’s just  _ one _ lab,” Hunk assured. “And I don’t think he gives you dirty looks, I think his face is just permanently like that.”

 

“Coulda fooled me!” 

 

“Come on, bud; don’t stoop down to his level,” Hunk said with a concerned look. “He’s not worth the effort.”

 

“I guess you’re right, Hunk,” Lance grumbled, crossing his arms with a pout.

 

“Lance we’re in college; life’s too short to hold a grudge,” Hunk muttered. “I mean, come on, one lab on a Monday versus six other days that you  _ don’t _ share with Keith? That’s such a small percent of your time.”

 

“Yeah,” Lance said in a defeated tone. 

 

“Hey, what are you doing tonight? Are you working?” Hunk asked, changing the subject.

 

“No, why?” Lance answered, raising a brow.

 

“I heard there’s a new taco place on Main Street,” Hunk said with an excited grin. “You wanna try it out?”

 

“Hell yeah, I do!” Lance answered. “Let’s go!”

* * *

 

“Okay, so I was thinking maybe if you escaped the usual way down the fire escape tonight, we could have like a marathon of cryptid videos?” Pidge suggested, leaning over the table. 

 

Currently, Keith and Pidge were sitting at a table in the food court like they usually did before he had to go to work. Keith had his face literally smashed into a book and Pidge had their laptop in front of them.

 

“Did Matt find any new Nessie videos?” Keith asked in a tired tone.

 

“No, even better,” Pidge answered with a grin. “ _ Mothman _ .”

 

Keith’s head shot up. “Fuck, Pidge;  _ Mothman _ ? Hell yeah.”

 

“So around midnight maybe?”

 

“I’ll head down after work and I change into sweatpants,” Keith replied.

* * *

 

The next Monday wasn’t any better than any other Monday. Lance didn’t usually count on a better Monday, but he could dream. Actually, it started out horrible. He woke up late, he didn’t have time to grab his usual Starbucks, Keith was being the usual douchebag, and he still had his afternoon lab to get through. Mondays just always sucked.

 

Thankfully he made a pitstop at Starbucks during lunch; Lance would at least be awake to deal with Mullethead.

 

Normal routine; Lance arrived to lab with Hunk at the same time as Keith and Pidge. From what Lance could tell, Mullethead had probably gotten into a fight that morning. Once he took off his helmet, he had probably five or six bruises on his body and a split lip.

 

“Oh, hey; look,” Lance said out loud, gesturing to Keith. “Mullet got in a fight— _ again _ .”

 

“Yeah,” Keith responded, slyly. “Abso-fucking-lutely.” He forced his bike’s kickstand down in a loud  _ click _ . Lance could see his expression wasn’t so sly; it was frustrated and tired. “I get into fights all the fucking time, right?” He mocked.

 

“Lance, back off,” Pidge snapped, glaring at him. 

 

“And why should I?” He snapped back. “It’s not like he’s hiding it!”

 

“Because you’re not—!”

 

“Yeah, I got in a fight,” Keith said, calmer now. “It’s none of your business so fuck off, McClain.”

 

Pidge turned their head to Keith with a scowl.  “Keith…” They scolded as he started walking. They followed. The two of them got closer to the lab room doors and far enough away from Lance and Hunk. “Stop doing that!”

 

“Stop doing what?” Keith asked in a bitter tone as he opened the door.

 

“Stop telling people lies!”

 

“It was more like half of a lie,” Keith corrected.

 

“Meaning…?” Pidge asked with a frustrated tone.

 

“I didn’t lie about it being none of his business,” Keith answered.

 

“But you admit you lied about the fight part?”

 

“I admit nothing,” Keith replied as he casually turned his chair around and sat on it backwards.

 

“You need to move out,” Pidge demanded as they sat down next to him.

 

“Not happening,” Keith replied.

 

“What, you live with that gremlin?” Lance asked as he and Hunk passed them.

 

“Stay out of it, McClain,” Keith snapped.

 

“No, but that’s a better idea than staying in  _ his _ apartment,” Pidge retorted with narrowed eyes at Keith. “You’re staying at our apartment tonight, no questions.”

 

“Pidge, it’s Monday,” Keith argued.

 

“ _ You’re staying at Matt and my place tonight whether you like it or not _ !” Pidge growled.

 

“Fine, Jesus Christ, Pidge,” Keith replied with a sigh.

 

“Alright, class.” Coran, their lab professor, entered the room. “Everybody sit down; we’re starting a new group project today.”

 

The class groaned.

 

“Now, now; a grade is a grade,” Coran explained. “Besides, this project is going to be fun!”

 

“Fun how?” Lance asked, unamused.

 

“You and your partner will be picking your topic!” Coran explained excitedly. “The only downside, I suppose, is that  _ I _ will be picking your groups.”

 

The class groaned again.

 

“Brilliant,” Pidge muttered, a hand holding up their chin from the table. “Looks like I’m gonna be the group mule this time.”

 

Keith, on the other hand, looked bored out of his mind. A group project that he can’t pick his partner for? Great. Just great. He just hoped he didn’t get Lance as a partner.

 

“Come on, now, class; past years have always enjoyed this project,” Coran argued. “Sure, you might not like the sound of it now, but you’ll all have fun!”

 

“Right,” Hunk muttered, quietly with a deadpan stare.

 

Coran rummaged through his desk and pulled out a packet with what the class assumed was the groupings. 

 

“Now, once I call out your groups, I want you all to come together and come up with your topic, alright?” Coran explained, looking through the packet.

 

“Yes, Professor,” The class answered in unison.

 

Coran then started listing off names in pairs of two. The class was pretty decent sized, so most people waited to tune in when their name was said or it was coupled with someone else. If the class had to be honest, they would have rather had a solo project for once rather than groups, but that’s not how Coran taught his class.

 

“Pidge, you’ll be with Hunk,” Coran called out after listing about six groups before them.

 

Pidge and Hunk looked at each other, clearly frustrated that they didn’t get their respected usual partners.

 

“If you touch my computer, you’re _ dead _ , Garrett,” Pidge hissed under their breath.

 

Hunk shrunk in his seat and leaned away from Pidge.

 

“Keith, you’ll be working with Lance,” Coran called afterwards. He gave the two a stern look. “And  _ don’t _ rip each other’s throats out, please.”

 

Lance spit-taked his caramel-mocha latte with extra cream and sugar, and Keith’s head shot up from the table.


	2. No arguing in the classroom!

Keith abruptly turned his head towards Coran with an angry glare. Out of all the people he could have been paired up with, _it was the one he didn’t want to be paired up with_. At least Coran knew it could end in disaster, but as far as Keith was concerned, he and Lance didn’t have anything in common. It might just be a task to figure out their topic in general.

 

“What?!” Lance shouted. “Why this guy?” He gestured to Keith and his greasy mullet.

 

“Because why not?” Coran answered with a question. “You two don’t seem to get along, and while it’s not my job to make you friends, I think it’s a good idea to expose you to new situations you’d rather not be in!”

 

“But _him_?” Lance repeated, pointing now.

 

“It’s a strategy, McClain,” Coran explained. “In the real world, you’ll have to work with people you don’t want to. This is your chance to make compromises— you won’t succeed if you keep holding grudges.”

 

“Coran has a point,” Pidge muttered to Keith.

 

Keith didn’t reply. He turned his head to Lance with an uncertain look. He just hoped that he didn’t suggest studying at his place.

 

Once Coran listed the rest of the groups off and explained what kind of project they were doing, Lance and Keith were forced to sit near each other. There was an awkward silence until Pidge spoke up.

 

“You two are going to have to talk sometime,” They said. “Have you even decided a topic?”

 

“Nope,” Keith replied with a monotone voice and a deadpan stare.

 

“What, does he not want to do folklore so you can talk about Mothman?” Pidge whispered.

 

“What the hell is a mothman?” Lance questioned with a raised eyebrow.

 

Pidge and Keith just stared at him.

 

“You’ve never heard of Mothman?” Keith questioned, not trying to seem rude.

 

“This is _blasphemy_ ,” Pidge shouted. “I call a re-group!”

 

“That’s not happening, Pidge!” Coran retorted as he looked through his papers.

 

“Well, whatever it is, we’re not doing it,” Lance demanded. He turned to Hunk. “What did you guys pick?”  


“The history of solar power energy,” Hunk replied.

 

“Look, I really don’t care,” Keith explained with a bored tone. “Just pick a topic McClain.”

 

“History of coffee?” Lance suggested with a grin.

 

Keith just stared at him. “I take that back, we’re not doing coffee.”

 

“Why the fuck not?”

 

“Because what’s the point in knowing the history of coffee, McClain.”

 

“To appreciate coffee to its fullest extent,” Lance replied with a regal tone.

 

“Look, I like coffee just as much as the next college kid,” Keith began with a bored expression. “But no one really cares how coffee has evolved unless they were curious.”

 

“Then what’s your idea?” Lance shot back, leaning on the table.

 

“I mean, you already declined it anyway,” Keith muttered with a deadpan expression.

 

“So the folklore was all you had?” Lance argued.

 

“How folklore has evolved with time,” Keith expanded on the subject.

 

“What, so you can search to your heart’s content on your cryptid crush?” Lance snapped, standing up.

 

“Hey, Mothman is out there!” Keith snapped back, standing up as well.

 

“Admit it, Kogane; you’re idea is just as bad as mine!” Lance retorted.

 

“So you admit that the coffee idea was stupid?” Keith asked slyly.

 

“That’s not the point!”

 

“Then _get_ to the point, McClain!”

 

“Hey, how about you do the history of child abuse?” Pidge suggested, casually.

 

Keith’s head turned immediately towards Pidge.

 

“ _Pidge_ ,” Keith hissed, glaring at them.

 

“I mean, it’s a pretty big topic as well as important,” Pidge continued. “Not to mention _relevant_.”

 

“Pidge, don’t,” Keith demanded.

 

All he got in return was a very serious expression from Pidge.

 

He turned back to Lance who seemed to be thinking, his index finger and thumb on his chin. He tilted his head as if to say he didn’t mind the idea. His face changed to almost a satisfied grin as if to tell Keith that he was only choosing the topic to get on his nerves.

 

 _Shit_.

 

Keith sighed before he sat back down. His face was unamused, but he had a feeling that he wasn’t going to get out of the topic now.

 

“I think we should do it,” Lance said, fists on his hips.

 

Keith’s forehead met with the table once again. He sighed. “Fine; the history of child abuse it is,” He muttered in a tired tone.

 

Keith just wanted so desperately for the project to be over.

* * *

 

For the rest of their lab time, Lance and Keith searched up all the information they could on their topic. Lance noticed how Keith kept staring at the same article for long periods of time, but paid no mind. He was an odd guy; there probably wasn’t any real explanation besides maybe spacing out. What really pissed Lance off was how he kept tapping both his fingers on the table and his foot on the floor.

 

“Would you stop that?” Lance whined with a pouting face.

 

Keith’s eyes darted from his screen to Lance.

 

“What?”

 

“The tapping; could you stop it?”

 

Keith took a minute before his leg stopped bouncing and he moved his hands from the table to his lap.

 

“You okay, Keith?” Pidge asked, concerned.

 

“I’m fine,” Keith answered.

 

“Liar.”

 

“I’m _fine_ ,” Keith repeated.

 

“Now I _know_ you’re staying at my place,” Pidge responded.

 

“Pidge, we already established I’m staying at your apartment, so drop it, please?” Keith pleaded, anxiously.

 

Pidge didn’t press any further and turned to their own research on their topic. Keith then turned back to his laptop screen and scrolled through the article.

 

Lance slowly went back to his own laptop, not quite understanding what was going on. It seemed serious, so he didn’t ask. Lance supposed that since he _was_ paired with Keith for this project, Coran was right and it was best if the two cooperated.

 

Once class was over, Keith had quickly gotten out of his seat and started walking. Pidge, being that Mullethead was their ride, followed behind.

 

Lance stood up abruptly, grabbed his laptop, and followed as well.

 

“Hey, Mullet!” Lance called out. “We should at least schedule a time outside of class to work on this!”

 

Keith had made it to his bike. “Yeah, fine; whatever,” He said quickly. “Just not at my place.”

 

Lance tilted his head with a raised eyebrow. “Why?”

 

“It’s none of your business,” Keith snapped with an anxious overtone. He mounted his bike, Pidge doing the same. “Listen— we just _can’t_ , okay?”

 

“Okay, fine,” Lance submitted with his arms raised.

 

“Hey, how about we all get together at my place?” Pidge suggested. “Matt won’t mind.”

 

“That sounds great, Pidge,” Hunk agreed. “Plan for Fridays?”

 

“Sure,” Pidge replied. “Keith?”

 

“Fine,” Keith said as he put on his helmet. Pidge narrowed their eyes.

 

“Keith,” Pidge growled through gritted teeth.

 

“Well, see you guys Friday then,” Lance muttered before the two walked off.

 

“Okay, I’m sorry I suggested the subject,” Pidge began. “But maybe now you’ll reconsider moving in with Shiro and Allura?”

 

“Pidge, it’s fine,” Keith assured. “Let’s just get to the food court before—!”

 

Keith’s phone rang.

 

“ _Shit_ ,” Keith hissed as he took off his helmet. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and answered it. “Hey, Shiro—!”

 

“Oh, thank God— Keith, what happened?” Shiro asked, a sense of urgency in his voice.

 

“Shiro, I’m fine,” Keith replied.

 

“Matt told me otherwise,” Shiro argued. “Keith, what happened?”

 

“It’s nothing that he hasn’t done,” Keith answered quietly. “Look, Shiro; it’s fine.”

 

“He’s staying at our place tonight,” Pidge shouted so Shiro could hear. “We got you covered, Shiro.”

 

Keith could hear his brother sigh in relief.

 

“Okay, just be more careful?” Shiro said. “To be honest—!”

 

“Shiro,” Keith interrupted. “He’ll be homeless if I leave.”

 

“Why do you even still _care_?” Pidge asked, annoyed. “After all he’s done to you?”

 

“Pidge,” Keith said, frustrated.

 

“If you ask me, he should have been on the streets a _long_ time ago,” Pidge continued.

 

“ _Pidge_.”

 

“I’m just really concerned, Keith,” Shiro explained. “I’d feel so much better if you just moved in with me and Allura.”

 

“I’d love to, but—!”

 

“Keith Kogane, he is _beyond_ help,” Shiro interrupted. “He had his chance.”

 

“Hey, I gotta go, Pidge and I have a quiz to study for,” Keith said, trying to end the conversation.

 

“Keith, you can’t avoid this forever,” Shiro warned. “Sooner or later, he’s going to go too far and it’d be too late because he might just—!” He exhaled with a shaky breath. “Look, Keith, we’re scared for your health.”

 

Keith sighed. “I know,” He mumbled.

 

“Just think about it, okay?” Shiro said.

 

“Okay,” Keith said in a soft tone. He swallowed his spit before giving a nod. “I’ll think about it.”

 

“Talk to you later, Keith,” Shiro said.

 

“Later, Shiro,” Keith said before hanging up.

 

“You always say that but you never actually _think_ ,” Pidge mentioned.

 

“I _can’t_ , Pidge,” Keith replied, putting away his phone. He grabbed his helmet and put it back on.

 

“You can, you just won’t.” They sighed. “You know, you’re reason is kinda bullshit.”

 

“I can’t let him go homeless.”

 

“He doesn’t deserve mercy,” Pidge muttered.

 

“Pidge,” Keith scolded before starting up his bike.

 

“If it were my choice I’d ditch his ass.”

 

“ _Pidge_!”

 

“Just sayin’,” Pidge muttered as they headed towards the library.


	3. It's gonna be a long night...

After a long rest of the week, Friday finally came; the two groups all met up at Pidge and Matt’s apartment, notebooks and laptops in hand.

 

“These apartments are small,” Lance commented, looking around Pidge’s apartment as they entered the living room.

 

“Matt doesn’t get paid much,” Pidge replied, tossing their bag on the couch. “Get comfortable.”

 

Keith, being a welcomed guest on many occasions, flopped onto the couch as if he lived there. He kicked his feet onto the coffee table and slouched.

 

“Real professional, Mullet,” Lance muttered as he sat down on the loveseat. He took out his laptop.

 

“What? They said to get comfortable,” Keith argued.

 

“Smartass,” Lance mumbled.

 

“What was that, McClain?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Sure didn’t _sound_ like nothing,” Pidge teased. “Kinda sounded like you said smartass.”

 

“Afraid to own up, McClain?” Keith asked with a grin.

 

“No!” Lance argued. “I just knew you were going to have a witty comeback.”

 

“Oh, so you _do_ think with your brain,” Pidge teased.

 

“Quiet, gremlin!”

 

Keith, tired of Lance arguing with everyone, took out his own laptop and started looking at articles again. He started reading, but the farther he got in the article, the more intense his finger tapping was on his laptop.

 

“Keith,” Matt called from the kitchen before Lance could open his mouth. Pidge’s brother leaned back to get in his view. “Do you want to borrow my stress ball?”

 

Keith didn’t answer; Matt took this as a yes. He disappeared into his room and he came back out with a red ball. He tossed it to Keith, landing next to him. He looked at it, took it in his hand, and then rapidly squeezed it in his palm.

 

“You guys deal with this a lot?” Hunk asked, curious.

 

“Yeah,” Matt said, going back into the kitchen. “Anyone want anything to drink?”

 

“Water’s fine,” Lance said.

 

“Toss me a pop,” Keith said.

 

“Mountain Dew?”

 

“That works.”

 

“Matt, could you gimme one of my Snapples?” Pidge asked with a sweet tone and puppy eyes.

 

“Sure thing, sis,” Matt said, opening the fridge. “You want anything?” He asked Hunk.

 

“I think I’m good with a water,” He answered.

 

“Sure thing,” Matt replied. He grabbed a bottle of Mountain dew, Pidge’s Snapple, and a Mountain dew for himself. He tossed Keith his pop. He held out his sibling’s Snapple. “Come and get it midget,” He teased.

 

“Rude,” Pidge muttered before getting up.

 

“Serves you right for borrowing my external hardrive without asking,” Matt retorted as they grabbed the bottle from his hands.

 

“It’s not my fault you store your secrets in it,” Pidge shot back before heading back to her seat.

 

Matt chuckled as he grabbed a pitcher from the fridge. He went over to a cupboard and grabbed a couple glasses and poured two glasses for the guests.

 

“So, what kind of projects you guys doing?” Matt asked as he set down the two glasses in front of  Hunk and Lance.

 

“We’re supposed to do the history of any topic,” Hunk explained. “Pidge and I are doing solar energy, and Lance and Keith are doing child abuse—!”

 

Matt almost did a spit take but stopped himself as to not get their computers sticky.

 

“And you agreed?” He asked, looking at Keith.

 

“It was my idea, Matt,” Pidge said quickly.

 

Matt slowly turned his head towards his sibling. “You _what_?”

 

“Look, it’s fine,” Keith said. “I agreed.”

 

“Pidge, why?” Matt asked, annoyed.

 

“They weren’t picking a topic so I just threw it out there,” They explained. “It’s not like they couldn’t decline the idea!”

 

“What’s the problem?” Lance asked with a raised eyebrow.

 

Matt and Pidge looked to Keith.

 

“It’s none of your concern,” Keith answered. “We chose to stick with child abuse so we’re going to do child abuse.”

 

Pidge and Matt exchanged looks. He was hiding the fact that he didn’t want to do the subject.

 

“Why are you being so secretive?” Lance asked, slightly annoyed. “If you have a problem, just say it; it’s not like you haven’t before.”

 

“Look, I’m not comfortable talking about it,” Keith explained. “So, if it’s alright with you, let’s just get this project over with.”

 

“Okay…” Lance muttered with a curious look. “So, what’d you find Monday since you left so quickly?”

 

“Four out of five victim’s abusers are parents, almost seven-hundred-thousand kids are abused annually, and over half the time it’s a relative to the victim that’s abusive,” Keith answered, monotoned.

 

“That’s… Holy shit,” Lance said quietly. “Four out of _five_?”

 

“Yeah,” Keith said, violently squeezing the ball in his hand.

 

“So that means half of the parents that are abusive also have an alcohol problem,” Lance mentioned. “I read on an article Monday that nine out of ten cases have alcohol as a major factor in—!”

 

The stress ball Keith had in his hand popped.

 

“Whoa— what the heck, Kogane?!” Lance screamed.

 

“ _Fuck_ — sorry, Matt; I didn’t mean to—!”

 

“You’re fine, Keith,” Matt assured. “I haven’t had a use for that thing since my first year in college.”

 

“Now _that’s_ a strong grip,” Hunk said out loud.

 

“Bathroom break,” Keith said abruptly, basically tossing his computer on the couch and promptly heading to the bathroom.

 

“Uh, is he okay?” Hunk asked.

 

Matt and Pidge exchanged worried looks.

 

“Just give him a minute,” Pidge explained, looking at both Hunk and Lance. “Hunk, what did you find?” They asked, changing the subject.

 

“Just maybe who invented the solar panel, the leading state in solar energy, and a couple of cool facts like what solar panels are made of,” Hunk replied. “What did you find?”

 

“Oh, just that China is the leading country in solar energy, Japan second, and the US in third,” Pidge said, matter-of-factly.

 

Pidge and Hunk conversed on their findings for a while, leaving Lance to keep searching. He couldn’t since all of a sudden he had a feeling that something was bothering Keith, and, while he really didn’t care, his curiosity got the best of him.

 

After a couple minutes went by, Keith came out of the bathroom.

 

“That was a long bathroom break,” Lance mentioned.

 

“Whatever,” Keith muttered tiredly. He walked back to the couch and put his laptop back in his lap.

 

The group went silent after that besides the couple of times that Pidge and Hunk exchanged questions and facts. Lance had a sneaking suspicion that Keith hadn’t gone to the bathroom for it’s intended purpose, but, as he said earlier, it wasn’t his business.

 

That didn’t change the fact that the question bounced around in his head.

 

Keith still had his anxious ticks. Later on, he had his laptop on the coffee table and instead of tapping his fingers on his computer, he started bouncing his leg. Lance questioned if he’d always done that, but he couldn’t tell since he never liked looking in the guy’s general direction.

 

Lance tried to strike up a conversation, at least to exchange information, but each time Keith replied with a grunt or a short sentence. It started to frustrate him. What made it worse was that Keith would switch between his ticks. His uneven nails tapped on the wood of the coffee table, or his foot would tap against furniture— each time it got louder, at least it seemed so.

 

“Maybe we should take a snack break or somethin’,” Lance suggested.

 

“What for?” Pidge asked, almost sounding annoyed.

 

“I can’t concentrate with all this tapping,” Lance answered, narrowing his eyes at Keith. He softened and shrugged. “I was just thinkin’ maybe if we took a break Mullet could get whatever it is out of his system.”

 

“Sorry,” Keith apologized. He seemed almost tired and oddly willing to do as Lance suggested. It was almost concerning, but it left Lance slightly satisfied.

 

“I am getting a little hungry, though,” Hunk mentioned, patting his stomach. “What do you have to eat?”

 

Matt shrugged, sitting at the kitchen island and his laptop in front of him. “Ramen, Lays chips, macaroni and cheese— just about any junk food, really.”

 

Keith gave Pidge a scolding look. “You two are _still_ stuffing yourselves with a shit load of Ramen?” He asked, outraged and disappointed.

 

“It’s all we can afford,” Pidge argued with a timid grin.

 

“ _No excuses_ ,” Keith replied, pointing in their direction. “I can still cook a decent meal on a budget!”

 

“Whoa, you can _cook_ , Mullet?” Lance questioned, surprised.

 

“Well, I mean he kinda has to,” Matt said. “What with—!”

 

“I live alone, so I learned,” Keith answered quickly. His tone wasn’t hostile, it was friendly, almost docile.

 

Matt and Pidge looked at Keith.

 

“Cool,” Lance said, unable to think of anything else. “I… didn’t know that.”

 

“Yeah,” Matt said with a shrug, playing along with Keith’s lie. “He and his brother used to live together upstairs, but ever since his brother moved out, he’s lived on his own.”  
  
“Why’d he move out?” Hunk asked.

 

“He married this girl named Allura,” Matt explained, the sound of disappointment leaking from his tone, although he tried not to show it. “They offered to let Keith live with them, but…”

 

“He’s stubborn and won’t take it,” Pidge finished with a strong expression shot at Keith.

 

“Is that what you guys were talking about on Monday?” Lance asked, his curiosity getting the best of him. “When you told Keith to move out?” He asked again, this time towards Pidge.

 

“Yeah, kind of,” Pidge answered with a shrug.

 

“Kind of?” Lance pressed further.

 

“We don’t need to talk about it,” Keith said, giving Lance a warning glare.

 

Clearly, Lance wasn’t going to get any answers, so he didn’t press further.

 

“But, back to the snacks, name just about anything and I’m almost certain we have something like it,” Matt explained, opening a cupboard. His casual expression turned surprised. “Oh, hey; I thought you ate the rest of those, Pidge?”

 

“What?— Oh, you mean the fudge Keith made last week,” Pidge said. “No, I actually totally forgot about those; just gimme a square.”

 

“Fudge?” Hunk asked curiously.

 

“Uh, yeah,” Keith replied. “They like it, so last week I made some.”

 

“You guys wanna try it?” Matt asked, grabbing the container with the leftover squares. “It’s amazing.”

 

“Uh, sure,” Hunk agreed.

 

Matt walked over and gave Pidge their piece and a piece to Hunk. He looked at Lance and offered a square which he accepted. “Did you want one, too, Keith? You _did_ make ‘em.”

 

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Keith replied. Matt tossed him a square.

 

Hunk took the first bite out of the fudge. His expression changed to one of delight. He hadn’t had such good sweet treats since he was a kid.

 

“Whoa— this is amazing, Keith!” Hunk exclaimed with a cheerful tone.

 

“Wait, really?” Lance asked, surprised.

 

“Taste it and find out, McClain,” Pidge said with a grin.

 

Lance narrowed his eyes at the short stack, but reluctantly took a bite out of his square of fudge. His expression went from bitter to surprise, then to satisfaction. It was good, he couldn’t deny that; but if it was made by Keith? He wasn’t going to openly admit it.


	4. Eavesdropping

That Saturday after their study session and Lance had finished working out for swim team, he ran into Keith unexpectedly. Despite Lance noticing him instantly, Keith didn’t seem as attentive. His head was hung, a hand gripped on his backpack strap. He seemed to have had more bruises than when he had last seen him, but that was no surprise. He must have gotten into another fight is all.

 

He didn’t know where he was heading since Lance had never seen Keith anywhere near the weight room. Actually, he didn’t know where the guy even hung out. He had just assumed he was out fighting with other students all day, but he didn’t seem like he was aggravating anyone on campus. It wasn’t at all how Lance had expected. Maybe he had just gotten finished with a fight and was done for the day? No, that couldn’t be it. Keith didn’t look _nearly_ as angry for that.

 

There were a lot of questions that were forming all of a sudden in Lance’s head. Maybe he had just assumed everything. Of course, this didn’t change the feelings Lance had towards him. Keith would still be Keith “Mullethead” Kogane who gave him dirty looks all the time.

 

The next Monday, Lance went back to his usual banter with Keith during lab.

 

“Could we just cooperate with each other _just_ this once for the project?” Keith asked, annoyed after a discussion about how they needed to prepare the presentation.

 

“All I’m saying is that we should start off with a good quote!” Lance argued, leaning over the table.

 

“And all _I’m_ saying is that quoting Coran isn’t going to get us anything else than brownie points!” Keith shot back, slamming his palm onto the table.

 

“Hey, hey!” Pidge growled. “There are more people at this table than you guys!”

 

“I wouldn’t be slamming the table if _somebody_ would stop trying to make this project into a brown-nosing opportunity!” Keith argued, refusing to break eye contact with Lance.

 

“Dude, you do that enough,” Hunk told Lance with an unimpressed expression.

 

“I do not!” Lance denied.

 

“Then how about the time you actually bought Coran brownies?” Pidge argued with narrowed eyes.

 

“What? It was his birthday!”

 

“Everyone else just got him cards,” They continued. “Besides, you just _had_ to one up _my_ clever card!”

 

“What? The talking card that repeats what you say?” He argued, unimpressed.  


“Yes, but the message I _left_ in the card before he used it like I knew he would was the clever part,” Pidge explained.

 

“Wait, what?” Lance asked, confused.

 

“Not important,” Keith interjected. “What _is_ is that we’re not quoting Coran for the sake of your petty teacher’s pet title!”

 

“It’s not my fault Coran likes me better than everyone else!” Lance argued.

 

“That’s not even—!”

 

“Na-ah-ah! I don’t want to hear it, Mullet!” Lance interrupted. “You’re just jealous cause Coran likes me better than you!”

 

Keith sighed loudly before glaring at Lance. “Whatever; you know what, _fine_. We’ll add your stupid quote; let’s just move on,” He muttered, turning back to his computer.

“Oh, hey, Keith?” Pidge started.

 

“Yeah?” Keith replied, still annoyed from his argument with Lance. They had just finished lab and were now currently heading to the library.

 

“Matt and I were wondering if you were still up for Movie-Marathon-Monday tonight?” Pidge asked, sounding almost timid. It was as if they were scared of his answer.

 

“Yeah, of course; why?” Keith asked with a kind tone; an oddity, Lance thought as he walked passed.

 

“Oh, I was just wondering,” Pidge replied. “I just— we just thought that since Saturday you had that… _accident_ and all, I mean— I know it’s been tradition since grade school, but we just wondered if you didn’t feel like it, ‘cause it’s totally fine! We understand, it’s just we wanted to know is all.”

 

Lance stopped mid step, casually kneeling down to tie his shoe. It wasn’t the first time he had ever eavesdropped on a conversation before, and the mention of Saturday caught his attention.

 

“Of course, I’m going to, Pidge,” Keith replied as if it was silly for them to ask. Lance heard him mount his bike. “I haven’t missed a movie night, ever.”

 

“It’s just…” Pidge sighed. “Saturday scared me and Matt, you know? We thought maybe…”

 

“I’m fine, Pidge; really,” Keith replied sincerely.

 

“Did Shiro call you, then?”

 

“Of course he did, doesn’t he always?”

 

“This time wasn’t like the other times, Keith.”

 

 _Other_ times?

 

At this point, Lance felt like he shouldn’t be listening anymore and quickly tied his shoe back up and started walking towards the dorms. All along the way he couldn’t shake the questions that kept forming in his head.

 

An accident? Pidge thought maybe what? What scared the Gremlin and their brother so much Saturday? New questions— _none_ of them any of his business, but he couldn’t help but to be curious.

 

When he got back to his and Hunk’s dorm room, he found his buddy sitting on his bed.

 

“There you are, Lance!” Hunk exclaimed, slightly worried. “One second you were behind me after lab and the next you’re gone!”

 

“My, uh, shoe got untied,” Lance replied.

 

“Are you sure? It’s been a while.”

 

“Well, once I was done, I got caught in some traffic,” Lance lied, slyly. “I got caught at the crosswalk, you know? A bunch of cars started coming through.”

 

“Well, I guess Iverson did explain that there’d be a lot of campus tours today,” Hunk replied, thinking about it. He looked up at Lance. “So, I forgot to ask today, but how was swim practice?”

 

“Great,” Lance replied. “I beat my best time again.”

 

“Wow, that’s like the third time you’ve beaten it in two weeks!”

 

“Yeah, I know right?” Lance boasted confidently.

* * *

 

“So, I gave Lance your number,” Pidge mentioned in the Library.

 

If Keith were drinking anything, he would have ruined his computer.

 

He stared at Pidge. “You _what_?”

 

“You guys are behind in your project, so I thought it’d be good for you guys to meet up some more this week to catch up a little bit,” Pidge explained. “You realize you only have one week left to finish your presentation and prepare?”

 

“Let me guess, you and Hunk already have it done?” Keith muttered.

 

“Of course we do,” Pidge replied. “I’m actually surprised; usually I get all the work when someone else gets paired with me, but Hunk’s been pretty good on balancing out the work load.”

 

Keith sighed. Pidge was right. The majority of lab time, Keith and Lance had bickered over what to add or what not to. They had barely even finished their first two slides on their presentation. He supposed it wasn’t a bad idea to set up a couple more study times with Lance to try and get it done before next week.

 

“The only problem I have with any other study times than Friday is that I have work and I have other classes and…” Keith sighed again with a pout. It was frustrating. “I don’t even know what kind of schedule he has.”

 

“Hunk mentioned he was on the swim team, if that helps any,” Pidge said. “And, I mean, if Lance _does_ decide to text or call, you got that.”

 

“Highly doubt it,” Keith muttered. “But knowing he’s a swimmer helps; I’ll have to ask when his practice and stuff is.”

 

“You know, Lance didn’t seem all too opposed to talking with you over the phone when I gave him your number,” They began, turning away from their laptop. “Actually, I think he mentioned that he was meaning to get your number so you two could talk over the project.”

 

“Are you sure you were talking to the right Lance McClain?” He questioned, unconvinced.

 

“I’m serious, Keith,” They assured. “I think he’s starting to look at you more like a person instead of the jerk who keeps forgetting that there are puddles everywhere from the sprinklers and who permanently has an intimidating face.”

 

Keith sighed, feeling bad about it. He just liked going fast on his bike, and he didn’t _want_ to look like he was glaring at every person around him. He just had an intense face. It wasn’t like he was targeting Lance; in fact, he always ended up accidentally splashing everyone on the sidewalks because of the sprinkler puddles and his face just happened to look like that. The only reason why Keith was always annoyed with Lance was that every class he shares with him, he talks and talks even when he’s trying to focus on the lecture or whatever project he was doing with Pidge or whoever he was paired with.

 

Not a lot of people liked him. He was intimidating, he always seemed like he was angry, and not to mention his hot-headedness always got him in trouble. The only reason why he was still attending Balmera Tech was because he still got good grades and he had plenty of scholarships, not to mention that Shiro and Allura put in good words for him. He wondered how many people actually _knew_ about his situation.

 

Then Keith wondered if Lance knew, too.

 

His phone brought him out of his thoughts when it buzzed in his pocket.

 

On the screen was a text notification from an unknown number, probably Lance. He opened it up and it was.

 

_So, hey. Pidge gave me your number?_

 

 **Keith** :

 _As I’ve been told_.

 

He saved the number under “Chatter Box” for shits and giggles.

  


**Chatter Box** :

_So, we should probably set up another time to work on the project_

 

 **Keith** :

_That might be a good idea._

 

 **Chatter Box** :

_So… When do you have free?_

 

 **Keith** :

_I usually work from five to eleven on most days and I usually have a couple of classes in the morning and a couple of labs in the afternoon_

 

 **Chatter Box** :

_Well I have swim practice just about every weekday from 1:30 to 3:30 and I weight lift on saturdays_

 

 **Keith** :

_What are you doing before lunch usually?_

 

 **Chatter Box** :

_Nothing, actually_

 

 **Keith** :

_Maybe before Lunch then?_

 

 **Chatter Box** :

_That’d work_

 

 **Keith** :

_So meet up before Lunch at the Library until we get this project finished so we can prepare for it?_

 

 **Chatter Box** :

_Sounds like a plan_

 

“So?” Pidge asked.

 

“So, what?” Keith asked, confused.

 

“When are you guys meeting up?”

 

“Before lunch,” He replied. “Why?”

 

“Nothing,” Pidge informed.

 

“Then why’d you ask?” Keith asked, less like a question and more like a demand.

 

“I was just wondering; God, Keith, always so serious,” Pidge joked. “Besides, I don’t want to see you fail. You’ve worked really hard to get the grades you have and I won’t have Lance pull you down.”

 

“Thanks for the concern Pidge, but this project won’t bring my grade down that much,” Keith said.

 

“Are you sure about that?” Pidge questioned. “Coran said this was a pretty big grade.”

 

“How big?” Keith asked, scared for the answer.

 

“I think it was like thirty-five percent?”

 

Keith groaned once he dropped his head into his Humanities book. “Pidge, Kill me now.”

 

“I’m concerned,” Pidge said, leaning back in her chair with a worried expression. “And I’d rather not after what happened Saturday.”

 

“Pidge, what am I gonna do?” Keith whined. “I have enough projects to worry about, not to mention Terry and—!” Keith stopped dead in his tracks and pulled his head up from his book. “— _Fuck_ , Terry!”

 

“What? What about the dick waffle?” Pidge asked, frantic.

 

“ _I forgot he told me I needed to be home during my lunch break_!” Keith hissed under his breath.


	5. Maybe Lance was right?

Lance waited at the Library’s front doors for Keith. They hadn’t specified exactly  _ when _ they’d meet up, but he expected it to be pretty lengthy. He checked his phone a couple times over fifteen minutes, waiting impatiently.

 

“This is fine,” Lance muttered out loud. “He’s probably just late; we didn’t really specify when we’d meet up anyway, so—!  _ There you are, Mullet _ !” Lance shouted as Keith drove up on his bike.

 

Keith quickly dismounted his bike and pulled off his helmet. He scrambled to get his bag unstrapped from the back and ran up to Lance.

 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be late, I just— something came up for a second and—!” Keith’s breath grew anxious and quickened. “Sorry, gimme a minute.”

 

“Are you okay?” Lance asked, confused but slightly concerned.

 

“Fine; yeah, I’m fine,” Keith said in a breathy tone as he ran his hand through his bangs. “Why?”

 

“Oh, you just seem…” He paused. “... Kinda distressed, I guess.”

 

“We should, ah,” Keith swallowed his spit, rubbing the back of his neck. “Head inside and start working on the project.”

 

“Yeah, right,” Lance agreed before they headed into the library.

 

Lance picked a spot on the second floor where there were less people. They put their laptops onto the table and slung their bags over their chairs. Once they sat down, almost simultaneously they opened their laptops and logged into them. Almost instantaneously, Keith’s leg started to bounce. 

 

He looked underneath the table to see Keith’s leg bouncing up and down. “Are you sure you’re okay? You don’t start bouncing your leg until after maybe fifteen minutes of studying.” Lance explained, glancing up at Keith.

 

“What?” Keith asked confused.

 

“You’re bouncing your foot,” Lance answered. “You don’t usually do that until we’ve at least touched a little bit on our project.”

 

“I do?” Keith asked, completely unaware of this.

 

“Yeah?” Lance questioned, unsure whether or not he was serious. “We’ve only just sat down, dude. There’s gotta be something up.”

 

“Look, I’m not comfortable talking about it, okay?” Keith argued.

 

He was curious as all hell, that was for sure. Usually if it were Hunk, he’d keep pressing the subject until he finally caved; however, this was Keith. They weren’t close at all and Lance literally had nothing to gain in knowing why he was so anxious, so he didn’t pry. 

 

The two had worked for a couple hours. They reviewed the information they were going to present, what could be cut so that they didn’t go over the time limit, and at least finished half of the presentation. It was surprising, Keith hadn’t started any arguments, neither did he, and the entire thing went by pretty smoothly.

 

“Hey, you’re not as bad as I thought you were,” Lance mentioned in a moment of silence.

 

“Oh, yeah?” Keith questioned with a raised eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”

 

“I don’t know,” Lance said, stumped on his own answer. “I just thought you were more aggressive than this.”

 

“I tend to give off that vibe to people,” Keith muttered, scrolling through the presentation looking for any errors.

 

“But if you’re this chill, why do you always run over puddles and splash me every morning?” Lance question, uncertain. “And those looks you give me, what’s that about?”

 

Keith sighed. “Sometimes I forget there are puddles on the streets because of the sprinklers,” Keith explained. “And this is just my face.”

 

“You  _ forget _ ?”

 

“I… like to go fast,” Keith clarified, almost embarrassed. “I don’t mean to run over every puddle on the street, and if it seemed like I targeted only you, you’re not the only one to think that.”

 

Lance narrowed his eyes and raised an eyebrow. “So you do it to everyone on the sidewalk?”

 

Keith nodded once.

 

“And the dirty looks?”

 

Keith rolled his eyes. “My face just looks like that.”

 

“No way,” Lance said, unconvinced. “Relax your face.”

 

“It  _ is _ relaxed.”

 

“No, it’s not; it’s all tense and shit!”

 

“Lance, we’re in a library.”

 

“You’re going off topic, Mullet.”

 

“Your voice is loud.”

 

“Just relax your face!”

 

“I told you, it  _ is _ .”

 

“Relax your face!”

 

“This is literally how my face looks, McClain.”

 

“You gotta be lying, I can see wrinkles.”

 

“Thanks,” Keith muttered sarcastically.

 

“How much sleep do you get?”

 

“Does it matter?”

 

“Let me guess, like three or four hours?” Keith glared at him. “I can tell from the dark circles. And how do you _stand_ that many piercings? _Specifically_ _on your face!_ ”

 

“Lance, we are  _ in a library _ ,” Keith hissed under his breath. “Keep your voice  _ down _ .”

 

“Just answer the question!”

 

Keith groaned. “Simple, I chose to get these piercings, thus I can stand them pretty well,” he answered, regretfully.

 

“I could never stand piercings on my face!” Lance said, throwing his hands in the air. “It’s literally called  _ piercings _ !”

 

“That’s why you don’t have any, and  _ keep it down _ ,” Keith said in an angry whisper. “I’ve had to remind you three times now that we are  _ in a library _ !”

 

“Why do you care so much?” Lance shot back.

 

“Because I don’t want to get kicked out of the one place Pidge and I can hang out peacefully,” He growled.

 

“There are plenty of places on campus to hang out,” Lance argued. “Like outside, the dorms, and the cafeteria… Heck, you could probably hang out at Pidge’s apartment, couldn’t you?— Hey, what time is it? I’m getting kinda hungry.”

 

Keith lazily grabbed his phone to his left on the table. He pressed the home button and the screen lit up with his lock background of his bike. The time read twelve twenty-three. The moment he realized it was already almost a half hour past noon, he started to panic and started packing his things into his backpack. He shoved papers into the smaller pockets and his computer into the laptop pocket. He zipped it up and in one smooth motion slung the strap onto his shoulder and started getting up from his seat.

 

“Where ya goin’?” Lance asked, slightly irritated with his behavior.

 

“It’s past twelve,” Keith answered quickly, his chair squeaking from underneath him as he forced the chair away from him.

 

“What, you got a date or something?”

 

“Sure, McClain,” Keith replied, not as an actual answer. He sounded more like he was only agreeing because he wanted him off his back about it.

 

“What is your  _ problem _ —!”

 

Keith’s palm crashed down onto the table, shaking the table lamp. “My  _ problem _ is that I don’t have time for arguing with you!” Keith hissed under his breath. “Right now I gotta be somewhere and _ I’m already late _ !”

 

“You were late to our study date,” Lance argued with a glare. “It shouldn’t be a problem, right?”

 

“ _ I can’t be late _ ,” Keith snapped. He sounded more scared than angry or frustrated. Lance went quiet.

 

Keith turned around and sprinted out of the library.

* * *

 

“ _ Can you believe the nerve of this guy _ ?!” Lance screamed as he paced in his and Hunk’s dorm room.

 

“Okay, calm down Lance,” Hunk said, holding up his hands sitting on his bed. “Maybe you don’t have all the variables.”

 

“It seems  _ very _ clear to me that he’s a total  _ dick _ !” Lance snapped.

 

“Yeah, I mean, sure he barged out while the two of you were busy studying, but don’t you think he actually  _ couldn’t _ be late?” Hunk asked. “Don’t you think you’re judging him a little too hard? From what I’ve seen, he’s a pretty cool guy— just a little anxious maybe.”

 

“After all he’s done before that?” Lance argued, throwing an arm in the air. 

 

“Didn’t you say he didn’t intend any of that?” Hunk questioned. Lance gave a pouting face. “Didn’t you  _ also _ say he said his face was always like that?”

 

“I still don’t believe that part,” Lance pouted, crossing his arms.

 

“Lance, what it looks like to me is that you can’t seem to let go of your first impression of him,” Hunk replied genuinely. “Look, you’re my best buddy, Lance, but you can’t keep doing this.”

 

Lance didn’t reply. He plopped onto his bed and pouted. Maybe Hunk was right, but that didn’t mean he was going to accept it at that moment. He knew he was annoyed about a little thing. It was a tendency of his. He’d get over it in a day or two.

 

“Is it because you think he’s better than you?” Hunk asked with a concerned look.

 

Lance’s expression changed. Hunk was taking him into a territory he never liked going. His insecurities weren’t friendly and his best friend was taking him into the deepest part.

 

Keith had always been better than him. Academically, physically, psychologically… The better grades is probably what gets on his nerves the most. Lance needs his swimming scholarship or else he could never afford college. He needed to go to Balmera Tech. He needed to show his family that he was capable of succeeding. Every time he saw Keith’s grades, he couldn’t help but feel frustrated. 

 

“Lance, you have straight A’s in all your classes, you’re the fastest swimmer on the swim team, hell, all the professors  _ love _ you,” Hunk explained. “You can’t possibly compare yourself to Keith.”

 

“His grades are  _ perfect _ , Hunk,” Lance said. “Not a blemish on his report card. All one-hundred percent. You can’t tell me not to measure up to him.”

 

“You can’t do that to yourself, Lance,” Hunk tried to convince. “And besides, who told you this?”

 

“Pidge,” Lance muttered. 

 

“When?” Hunk asked, confused and curious with a raised eyebrow.

 

“When they gave me his number.”   
  


“When did this happen?”

 

“Pidge came up to me after swim team and gave it to me,” Lance replied. “We sparked conversation and then they brought up how they didn’t want his grades dropping.”

  
  
“And they told you that his grades have been blemish free?”

 

Lance nodded, flopping sideways where his head fell onto his pillow.

 

“Lance…”

 

“No, I get it; I’m jealous,” Lance said. “I can’t get to his level, I get it.”

 

“Sure you can, Lance,” Hunk argued. “You just need to work a little harder.”

 

“Can we drop this?” Lance asked. “I’d like to forget about how amazing Keith is at everything.”

 

“He’s not amazing at everything, Lance,” Hunk replied.

 

“Name one thing,” Lance muttered with a deadpan stare.

 

“He can’t socialize worth a crap,” Hunk answered.

 

Lance tilted his head to both sides until he figured the argument was valid. “Good point,” He agreed.

 

“Hey, you wanna get some burritos on Main Street?” Hunk suggested. “Get your mind off things? I know you really liked the front counter girl last time.”

 

Lance’s face brightened. “Hey maybe this time I’ll get her number!”

 

“Now we’re talkin’!” Hunk exclaimed as they both scrambled to get their shoes on.


	6. Personal subjects

Keith was terrified the moment he reached his street. It was a moment of terror that he’d felt many times, but it always felt the same. It was a horrible feeling, and it almost had Keith running away. He knew  _ much _ better than that. He knew that if he ran it would only be worse when he returned, so he pulled into a parking spot and timidly walked into the apartment building.

 

He could almost hear his adoptive dad’s loud screaming and the sound of beer bottles shattering against the walls and floor. It was  _ terrifying _ to think about. There was no avoiding it. It would only be worse.

 

He bit his lip, standing outside of the apartment door— Number twelve on the third floor. His breathing was shaky. His hand hovered on the doorknob, heart racing— beating in his ears. He swallowed his spit, shut his eyes, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

 

He wasn’t met with a positive greeting.

 

He tried to shut out the details, but sometimes things leaked. He remembered standing there, probably punctured his lip with his right canine tooth. He hadn’t looked Terry in the eye. He kept his head low, submissive. He stood still, afraid that if he moved, a bottle could break much too close to his head. He distinctly remembered the foul smell of liquor on his breath, something he had unfortunately become accustomed to.

 

His lip was definitely bleeding after Terry had punched him in the face. Surprisingly, despite how drunk his adoptive dad was, his accuracy was square on. He was used to it by now. If things weren’t any worse, he flinched at the sound of breaking glass. It had been a while since Terry had thrown anything made of glass at him. He should have figured, since he had been a full half hour late.

 

Everything was fuzzy after Terry had started strangling him. All he remembered was Matt forcing the door open. When he came to, both Pidge and Matt were above him with concerned expressions.

 

“Are you okay?” Pidge asked.

 

“Where is he?” His voice worried the Holt siblings. It was much too weak sounding for Keith.

 

“Oh, for cryin’ out loud—! Would you  _ stop _ thinking about that dick weed for a second?” Matt snapped. “He  _ strangled _ you! There is a  _ bruise _ on your neck! Does this not make you the  _ littlest bit _ concerned, Keith?”

 

“He’s never done this before,” Pidge said. “Out of  _ all _ the things he’s done to you, he’s never  _ strangled _ you.” It was clear that Pidge was scared of the situation.

 

“What time is it?” Keith asked, sitting up slowly. He looked at the clock on the wall. It read one thirty-two. He and Pidge had a good forty-five minutes until their next lab.

 

“Maybe we should just ditch lab today, Keith,” Pidge suggested.

 

“What?” Keith questioned, confused. “We can’t skip lab.” His voice cracked.

 

“At least take a power nap while I call Shiro,” Matt said as he stood up, taking out his phone.

 

Keith sighed loudly.

 

“Keith, this is serious!” Pidge scolded. “What if it’s worse next time?”

 

“It’s not gonna—!”

 

“ _ Keith Kogane, shut your trap _ !” Matt snapped as his phone rang. “You’re not going to work tonight and you’re staying here.”

 

“I need to go to work, Matt!” Keith argued. “I got bills to pay.”

 

“You work your ass off, you can afford one day, and stop speaking, you’re going to hurt your voice more,” Matt muttered. “Hey, yeah; Shiro? Yeah, dick weed strangled him this time— Takashi he’s fine, he’s at our place right now. I’m making him stay here.”

 

Keith sunk into his spot on the Holt’s couch. He could feel stinging in his face from what he figured was the glass cuts. His lip was swollen and if he moved his neck too fast it hurt too. Instead of protesting Matt’s orders, he curled up to the back of the couch, like he always did.

 

“He’s, ah,” Matt looked at Keith on the couch, curled up like when he was a kid. “He’s doing the one thing he did when we were kids on the couch. I told him to sleep a little bit before his next lab— look, I know he shouldn’t go anywhere, but he’s insisting on going to school… Pidge’ll be there so everything’s going to be fine… What, Lance?” Matt turned to Pidge. “Hey, sis, do you know if that Lance guy is gonna cross paths with you guys? I know he was pressing questions on the situation.”

 

“I hope not,” Pidge replied. “I don’t know what would happen if he started being a jerk about it.”

 

“Shiro, it’s fine—! No, Shiro, you don’t have to—!” Matt groaned as he heard the call end. He face-palmed. “He’s heading down.”

 

“Right now?” Keith asked, timidly. His voice almost inaudible. 

 

“Right now.”

 

Keith made a loud whining noise, his voice cracking an alarming amount of times. 

 

“Sorry,” Matt said, slightly ashamed of himself.

 

“No, we both know he wouldn’t have listened anyway,” Keith said.

 

“Where did he say he moved to?” Matt asked.

 

“Don’t remember the name but it’s like a half an hour away,” Keith answered.

 

“You’d be on your way to lab, wouldn’t you?” 

 

“Yeah,” Keith muttered, his voice sounding hoarse. “And lucky for Shiro, he knows my schedule.”

 

“How’d he manage that?” Pidge asked.

 

“Allura.”

 

“Of course.”

* * *

 

Lance yawned. He had made the mistake of skipping his Mocha Latte before Swim practice. Hunk had said it was a better idea, but without it he just couldn’t put in enough effort in his practice, so coach had let him go early to take a nap, instead he went and got his Mocha Latte and went straight to his next lab.

 

He groggily walked down the sidewalk towards his classroom with his backpack slung over his shoulder and extremely sugary Mocha Latte in his hand. It seemed like it was just going to be a normal walk to class, but of course that wasn’t going to be the case.

 

On Lance’s way to his class, he caught the familiar sight of Pidge’s aviator cap. What confused him was that they were walking with Keith and not the two of them riding on Mullethead’s bike. He was almost tempted to walk up to them and ask what was up, but then a man in a black suit and tie approached before he could decide. He had no idea who it was but Keith didn’t seem to happy to see the guy in person. 

 

Lance was fully aware that it was none of his business, but he walked up anyway.

 

“Keith, I just want to know what happened,” the guy in the suit said. Upon closer inspection, Lance could see a prominent scar across his nose.

 

Keith’s head hung low, as if he was ashamed. When Lance looked closer, there were dozens of cuts in his cheeks, another split lip and there was a bruise forming around his neck. The man looked distressed and concerned about him. Lance would have been too, if it weren’t for the fact that he was still a little bitter from what happened that morning.

 

“Hey, Mullet,” Lance called.

 

Keith turned his head; the man did the same.

 

“Lance, look; I’m sorry about this morning, but—!”

 

“Na-ah-ah! Don’t want to hear it,” Lance interrupted. It was obvious at that point that Keith was in serious pain by the sound of his voice. If the bruise around his neck was any indication, it seemed like he had been in a fight that almost turned for the worse, so he decided that he wouldn’t snap at him for ditching him at lunch. “You left without setting up another time!”

 

Keith blinked. “Sorry,” he replied sincerely, his voice was coarse and went high pitched at the end. The man beside him cleared his throat. Mullethead sighed and narrowed his eyes at the guy in the suit. “Lance, this is Shiro, my brother; Shiro, this is Lance, my lab partner.”

 

“So  _ you’re _ Lance, huh?” Shiro questioned with crossed arms. “So, who’s idea was it to pick the child abuse topic, hm?”

 

“I told you, Shiro, it was me,” Pidge argued.

 

“Is there something I’m missing here, or…?” Lance asked with a raised eyebrow.

 

Shiro narrowed his eyes at Keith. “Why am I not surprised?”

 

“Look, Shiro; I’m fine, really,” Keith assured. It was an obvious lie since his voice didn’t sound like it. “I’m alive, aren’t I?”

 

“I know, but it’s only a matter of time before it gets worse, Keith,” Shiro argued in a much more serious tone than before. He almost sounded scared.

 

“Before what gets worse?” Lance asked. He regretted it soon after.

 

“Keith,” Shiro called, hands on his hips now. When his brother looked at him, he gestured to Lance with his head as if to tell him to explain.

 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Keith pouted, crossing his arms and turning his head.

 

“Keith,” Pidge and Shiro growled in unison.

 

“What, is it some  _ big secret _ or something, Mullet?” Lance said sarcastically, arms crossed.

 

“Look, it’s just…” Keith sighed. “... Personal, okay?”

 

“Well, can we plan another time to meet up for the project?” Lance said, changing the subject.

 

“Matt’s forcing him to stay at our place and he’s not going to work, so I think tonight would be fine,” Pidge explained. “Right, Keith?”

 

“Sure,” Keith said without argument.

 

“Cool, I’ll see you at Pidge’s apartment around, say, seven tonight?” Lance said.

 

“That’s fine,” Keith agreed. “Now, if you’ll excuse me,  _ Shiro _ , Pidge and I need to head to lab.”

 

“Later,  _ Mullet _ ,” Lance called, heading towards his own lab.

 

“Later,  _ Chatter Box _ ,” Keith called back. He held his hand gently on his neck in pain.

 

“You’re officially on voice lockdown,” Pidge muttered.

 

“But—!”

 

“Don’t make me put duct-tape over your mouth, Kogane!”

 

Keith gave Pidge a pout.

* * *

 

After Keith and Pidge had gotten back from lab, Keith curled up on the couch again in the same position. Pidge sighed with a worried look. They hadn’t seen Keith so vulnerable since they were younger. As much as Keith wanted to hide it, he couldn’t hide his fear.

 

Matt, being that he had nothing else to do, had made tea for Keith with plenty of honey. He figured that it would help his throat. He put the cup of chamomile tea on the coffee table in front of him.

 

“Drink,” Matt commanded, not taking no for an answer.

 

Keith turned his head so that whatever Matt had given him was in his line of vision. He then looked up at Matt.

 

“It’ll help your throat.”

 

Keith flipped himself over and sat up. He carefully grabbed the cup and held it close to his face. 

 

“So,” Matt began. He grinned. “How was the encounter with Shirogane?”

 

Keith groaned before taking a sip of his tea. “Typical,” He answered with a throaty sound; however, he did sound slightly better than when he had left.

 

“Hey, you sound a little bit better,” Matt pointed out. 

 

“I had him on vocal lockdown,” Pidge replied. “Sure helped, didn’t it, Keith?”

 

Keith just grumbled to himself, taking another sip.

 

“So, Shiro was doing his mother hen act, huh?” Matt asked, leaning against the kitchen counter.

 

“That’s all he ever does,” Keith muttered. He sighed. “I know he’s worried and all, but I can take care of myself,” he added in a raspy breath.

 

Matt gave Keith a glare. He looked his way and raised an eyebrow.

 

“What?” he asked.

 

Matt rolled his eyes. “Never mind,” He muttered before walking over to the fridge. “Just drink your tea, take a nap. You need to relax.”

 

“Oh, right,” Pidge started, remembering Keith and Lance’s study plans. “Lance is supposed to be over around seven tonight. He and Keith are going to work on their project.”

 

“You sure that’s a good idea even after…?”

 

“It’s fine,” Keith replied. “We need to work on it anyway.”

 

“Okay, if you say so,” Matt mumbled. “How’d you figure that out, anyway?”

 

“We crossed paths with him while Shiro was doing his thing,” Pidge explained, opening their computer and typing away in a search engine for cryptid videos. 

 

Matt did a double take. “Say  _ what _ now?”

 

“You heard me, dork,” Pidge muttered. “To be honest, though, Lance  _ did _ seem pretty chill about it.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah,” They said. Pidge looked at their brother after a while of silence.

 

“He didn’t say anything about the injuries or anything?” Matt questioned. Pidge shook their head. “Not even the voice?” His sibling just shook their head again. 

 

“You don’t think…?” Keith questioned slightly anxious.

 

The three of them exchanged glances.

 

“Oh, boy,” Matt breathed out.


	7. Cooperation is key

After lab, Lance headed straight back to his dorm. He had expected Hunk to be there working on his homework, but he noticed the note on his friend’s bed explaining that Shay planned a last minute date with him. Lance took this as an opportunity to look through his little blue box of memories he kept in his desk drawer.

 

It was a wooden box resembling a crate with chipping blue paint. The corners had black covers and the latch was locked with a small brass lock— the key on his keychain. He unlocked it and opened the box that was filled with various polaroids he’d taken over the years. The majority of them were of family and friends, a couple selfies among them and the occasional picture of marine life in different aquatic parks he had been to. His favorite was of one that he’d taken of a lionfish.

 

He always enjoyed looking through them by himself. It gave him a moment of relief remembering all the good things he’d experienced. He dug through the pile of polaroids and found one in particular. It was of him and his family that his grandmother had taken when he was young. She had taken it at a family gathering and afterwards gave him the picture and the camera. “Make beautiful memories,” she told him. The box reminded him that no matter what happened to him, there’s always a brighter side of things.

 

After a while, he closed the box, locked it up, and stuck it back into his drawer. He looked at his phone noticing that it was just about time for him to leave for Pidge’s apartment, so he slipped his shoes back on, grabbed his bag, and dashed out of the dorm building.

 

He had barely made it at seven on the nose. He knocked on the door, greeted by Pidge.

 

“Hey, Keith here?” He asked.

 

“Well, yeah,” Pidge replied, opening the door some more. They leaned on the door frame. “I  _ did _ say that Matt was forcing him to stay here.”

 

“So…” Lance began. “...Can I come in?”

 

“I don’t know, can you?”

 

“ _ Pidge _ !” Matt hissed. “Just let him in, for God’s sake!”

 

“Fine…” They grumbled, stepping to the side to let Lance in.

 

“Thanks,” Lance said with a grin. He walked into the apartment only to see that Keith was laying down, face towards the back of the couch with what Lance could have  _ sworn _ was the most peaceful state he’d  _ ever _ seen Mullethead in.

 

“Keith, your lab partner’s here,” Matt said. 

 

This instantly woke Keith up with a jolt. He sat up and looked at Lance.

 

“Sup, Mullet?” Lance greeted. “How’s the voice doin’?”

 

“It’s fine,” Keith replied. “You want to get started or…?”

 

“Yeah,” Lance said sitting down on the loveseat. He took out his laptop and opened it up. “By the way, I  _ told _ you, you  _ can _ relax your face.”

 

“What?”

 

“I saw you just now with a relaxed face while you were napping,” Lance muttered. 

 

Keith rolled his eyes and grabbed his own computer from the coffee table. “Whatever you say, Chatter Box.”

 

“So,” Pidge began awkwardly, closing the door. “What do you guys have left to do, then?”

 

“In depth script, who’s saying what,” Keith answered. 

 

“And rehearsing, obviously,” Lance added.

 

“How far in the script?”

 

“Almost done, I promise,” Keith muttered.

 

“Keith.”

 

Keith paused. “We’re like halfway done,” he answered quieter.

 

“More than halfway,” Lance argued.

 

“We have, like, an opening, a closing, and then up to the statistics of how many kids are victim to child abuse,” Keith muttered, glaring at Lance.

 

“Better get to work, then,” Matt mumbled. “Keith, did you finish the tea?”

 

“Yes,” Keith lied.

 

“He’s lying,” Pidge tattled as they browsed the web in a bored fashion.

 

“It’s supposed to help your throat, Keith,” Matt scolded.

 

“Tea is bitter,” Keith mumbled.

 

“It had  _ honey _ in it,” Matt muttered with narrowed eyes at him.

 

“Still bitter.”

 

“So picky,” Matt sighed. “I only have so much honey in my kitchen.”

 

“ _ Our _ kitchen,” Pidge argued.

 

“Nice try, ya gremlin,” Matt chuckled. “I pay for rent, kid.”

 

“Wait, even your  _ brother _ calls you that?” Lance questioned.

 

“Where do you think it started?” Pidge said.

 

“We’ve always called them a gremlin since we were kids,” Matt explained. “You two should get working, Pidge told me that project is due in a week so get crackin’.”

 

“Okay, so how should we present the drinking statistics?” Lance asked. “Should we use a pie graph or maybe a bar graph? I was thinking the bar graph to be honest.”

 

“It makes better sense than the pie graph so, sure,” Keith agreed with a sigh. “Color coded or no?”

 

“If we are, blue is definitely one of ‘em.”

 

“Then let’s do the other bar red then.”

 

“Cool, so red for drinkers and blue for non-drinkers?”

 

“Sure.”

 

Pidge looked between both Keith and Lance. “You guys aren’t… arguing?” They asked.

 

“I see no problem,” Lance muttered as he started making the graph.

 

“You guys literally bickered basically every lab,” Pidge argued, glaring at Lance. 

 

“That kinda stopped when we worked in the library,” Keith explained, typing out the script. “Who’s saying what?”

 

“How about you open it?”

 

“No.”

 

“But I opened the last point,” Lance argued.

 

“I just…” Keith sighed. “I just would rather not open this one.”

 

“Fine, but you have to open the next two points,” Lance muttered.

 

“Whatever,” Keith sighed. 

 

“We also didn’t finish figuring out what else we were going to cut,” Lance added. “We’re still, like, a minute over.”

 

Keith rubbed his forehead, looking over the list of information they had put together in a document. He didn’t want to look at it anymore, but Lance had a point. They were a minute over, and there was no way that Keith would allow that.

 

Pidge noticed that Keith couldn’t focus, so they stood up and looked over Keith’s shoulder.

 

“Pidge, what are you doing,” Keith muttered, staring at the document.

 

“Helping you out,” Pidge argued. “Because you obviously need it.” They looked at the list thoroughly until finally they pointed to a line of text about drugs. “Why do you have a full section on different drugs? Couldn’t you just combine that with the drinking portion?”

 

“Didn’t think of that,” Keith muttered. “That’d probably shorten it enough, but we’ll have to see.”

 

“Great, I’ll just add those to the graph then,” Lance mentioned as he continued making the graph.

 

“I’ll edit the script,” Keith muttered as he started rearranging the information and altering the words to combine them together.

 

They continued like this for a while, Pidge still looking over Keith’s shoulder as they really had nothing better to do. There was maybe the occasional argument, but nothing that escalated too out of hand. Pidge was surprised. They had successfully finished their script and were ready to rehearse.

 

“That went extremely well,” Pidge mentioned. They stood up straight, hands on their hips. “I didn’t think you guys would get this far.”

 

“You underestimate me,” Lance said with a grin, closing his laptop.

 

“And I stand corrected,” Pidge sighed. 

 

“And you were worried Keith’s grades would drop,” Matt teased with a grin.

 

“Oh, shut up, dork,” Pidge muttered, glaring at their older brother. “They still have to present it.”

 

“Point taken.”

 

“Whoa! Look at the time,” Lance exclaimed, surprised looking at his phone. “Hunk must be back from his date by now— I should get going.” He started to pack his laptop back into his bag. “ I guess I’ll see you guys Friday?”

 

“See you then, Chatter Box,” Keith said with a smirk.

 

“Later, Mullet,” lance shot back as he stood up. “Later,  _ gremlin _ .”

  
  
“You don’t seem to realize I don’t take that as an insult,” Pidge called as Lance started walking through the door.

 

“And you don’t seem to realize I don’t care!” Lance retorted before shutting the door behind him.

 

Instantly, Pidge turned their head towards Keith. “Was it because you’re tired? Or because dick weed? Or maybe because you’re still a little disoriented from being strangled?” They asked quickly and quietly.

 

“What?” Keith asked confused with a raised eyebrow.

 

“You weren’t bickering about trivial stuff,” Pidge muttered with a pout. “You guys were… cooperating,” They added.

 

“What’s wrong with that, Pidge?” Matt asked, curiously.

 

“They  _ never _ get along,” Pidge answered, turning their head towards him.

 

“Weren’t you the one who was saying that he was looking at me more like a person and not a jerk?” Keith asked, unamused.

 

“Yeah, but like,” Pidge paused, trying to think of the right words to say. “You at least start arguing about stupid shit.”

 

“Katie!”

 

“I’ve said worse, Matt!”

 

“Whatever!” Matt argued. “Whatever it is they had against each other seems to have disappeared, so  _ drop it _ , Katie Holt.”

 

“Fine,” Pidge muttered.

 

“So, Keith,” Matt began, changing the subject. “You sleeping in my room or on the couch tonight?”


	8. Who's going to what concert?

Friday came around again. Keith and Pidge had both finished their last class of the day. Keith’s voice was better despite the bruise still apparent on his neck, it was a fairly calm rest of the week. This, however, wasn’t exactly what bothered him.

 

He was mostly worried about a pair of tickets to a concert that Pidge now couldn’t go to.

 

“Matt  _ please _ !” Pidge pleaded on their knees with their hands together. They gave their signature puppy dog eyes for the added effect.

 

“I said  _ no _ , Katie,” Matt snapped. “You didn’t tell me you had a paper due Monday!”

 

“Oh,  _ come on _ , Matt!” Pidge whined. “I told you I can get that paper done the night before—!”

 

“You are going to get it done  _ before _ Sunday,” Matt commanded. “And if it means missing that concert, then I’m sorry! School comes first, Katie!”

 

“ _ But it’s Twenty-One Pilots, Matt _ !” Pidge howled. “It’s our  _ thing _ and since you have  _ work _ and Shiro has a date with Allura,  _ I have to go _ !”

 

“Look, I know you’re upset, but you have  _ school work _ , Pidge,” Matt argued. “I’m sorry, Keith.”

 

“It’s fine,” Keith said.

 

“No! It’s not fine!” Pidge screamed. “You’ve already paid for the hotel and everything! The tickets are  _ in your hand _ , Keith!”

 

A knock came from the door.

 

Pidge glared at Matt before walking over to the door and opening it.

 

“Jeez, I can hear you from all the way outside the building,” Lance muttered, his body tense. “What are you guys even yelling about?”

 

“It’s nothing,” Pidge growled with narrowed eyes.

 

“Keith has tickets to Twenty-One Pilots and Pidge wants to go, but I’m not letting them,” Matt explained. 

 

“Well why not?” Hunk asked with a raised eyebrow.

 

“Because they have a paper to write that’s due Monday,” Matt explained, crossing his arms.

 

“So who’s going?” Lance asked curiously.

 

“Well,” Matt muttered. “I won’t be able to and his brother’s got a date.”

 

“Oh, cool; same,” Hunk blurted out but quickly covered his mouth.

 

“ _ What _ ?” Lance shouted outraged, turning to his friend.

 

“Sorry, Lance,” Hunk apologized.

 

“But it’s our  _ Friendaversary _ !” Lance argued.

 

“Look, Shay got reservations at this fancy new restaurant— The Balmeran Crystal? And she really wants to go this weekend.”

 

“You know what— _ Fine _ ,” Lance pouted. “Keith, I’ll go with you.”

 

Pidge blinked. “What?”

 

“You will?” Keith asked, dumbfounded.

 

“Yeah,” Lance said with a nod. 

 

“Really?” Pidge began, unconvinced. “Do you even  _ listen _ to Twenty-One Pilots?”

 

“No, but I’m willing to try it out!” Lance muttered, crossing his arms.

 

“You’re really going out of your comfort zone, bud,” Hunk began, slightly concerned. “I mean, a concert to an emo band with  _ Keith _ ?”

 

“What’s the problem? We’ve been getting closer,” Lance argued.

 

“Wait a minute—  _ you were texting Keith this whole time _ ?” Hunk screamed, surprised.

 

“I mean, I never got Nyma’s number, so…” Lance mumbled with a pouting face.

 

“Oh, so it really  _ wasn’t _ Shiro, then,” Matt teased with a grin.

 

“ _ Shut up, Matt _ ,” Keith hissed, glaring at him.

 

“You know what, let’s just work on the project for Coran,” Pidge growled, grabbing their laptop. “Hunk, have you been practicing your parts?”

 

“Well, yeah,” Hunk answered, sitting next to them. “When I have the time at least.”

 

“Let’s go over it real quick— see what we need to work on,” Pidge said.

 

“You want to get started, too?” Keith asked, grabbing his own laptop.

 

“Yeah,” Lance agreed. “Let’s get this show on the road!”

* * *

 

Lance hadn’t realized what he had done. After he and Hunk had gotten back to their dorm room, he had processed what he had agreed to. He didn’t know any Twenty-One Pilots songs and he just  _ barely _ started to get to know Mullethead. Why had he agreed to it?

 

Oh, right. He had gotten bitter about Hunk making plans without him on their friendaversary.

 

“ _ What do I do _ ?” Lance groaned, slumping into his bed.

 

“Go to the concert with Keith tomorrow?” Hunk replied, sitting on his bed.

 

“I don’t even know any Twenty-One Pilots songs!”

 

“I thought you were willing to try something new?” Hunk muttered with narrowed eyes.

 

“I mean, I  _ guess _ ,” Lance muttered.

 

“Just go to the concert, Lance,” Hunk sighed. “Oh—! Right, I got something for you for our friendaversary.”

 

“You did?”

 

“Yeah— I felt awful about sitting on your fidget spinner and breaking it, so I got you a new one— it lights up and it’s blue, too!” Hunk explained, rummaging through his bag. He pulled out a box with a blue fidget spinner inside. The box had brightly colored text that said  _ LED _ .

 

“Whoa!” Lance said in surprise. “You didn’t have to do that, Hunk.”

 

“I also felt bad about not hanging out with you on our friendaversary, so I thought I should at least get something for you.”

 

Lance took the box and took out the spinner. “How do you—!” He pressed one of the white disks and it lit up with three different lights all flashing at different intervals. “— Hunk this is so  _ cool _ !” He pressed the last two and started spinning it. It gave off a neat light show.

 

“I’m glad you like it,” Hunk said with a smile. 

 

From Lance’s desk, his phone lit up with a notification from Keith. He grabbed his phone and read the text message.

 

**Mullethead:**

_ Are you sure you want to go? _

 

Lance raised an eyebrow.

 

“What did Keith say?” Hunk asked curiously.

 

“Oh, he was just asking if I was sure I wanted to go,” Lance muttered before texting back.

 

**Lance:**

_ Well, yeah, I did say I would go, right? _

 

“Well, no bailing now,” Lance mumbled.

 

There was a moment of silence. “So, about you and Keith texting,” Hunk mentioned.

 

“What about it?” Lance asked.

 

Hunk grinned. “You were awfully giggly these past few days,” he continued. “Were you  _ lying _ at the beginning of the year, then?”

 

“What— _ No _ , pfft,” Lance looked away from Hunk, his cheeks turning a slight pink. “That’s ridiculous, Hunk, of course I don’t have a  _ crush _ on Mullethead.”

 

“You’re face says otherwise, Lance,” Hunk teased. “What, does he laugh at all your jokes?”

 

Lance paused. “Yes,” he mumbled.

 

“Are you  _ sure _ —!”

 

“ _ I am very sure, Hunk _ ,” Lance argued.

 

**Mullethead:**

_ It’s in the next state over and we’d be driving down there on my bike _ .

 

“That’s the only vehicle he has?” Lance questioned.

 

“He’s only got his bike?” Hunk asked.

 

“Yeah, he said we’d be driving there with his bike,” Lance muttered.

 

**Lance:**

_ I’m not gonna die, am I? _

 

**Mullethead:**

_ Pfft, no. Pidge isn’t dead yet so _

 

**Lance:**

_ Point taken _

* * *

 

“ _ Matt, give my phone back _ ,” Keith hissed, reaching up for his phone. Of course, Matthew Holt just  _ had _ to be taller.

 

“Eh, I kinda want to see what you got goin’ on with Lance,” Matt argued with a grin.

 

“Let me see!” Pidge exclaimed, jumping up and grabbing the phone. They quickly unlocked the phone and scrolled through his conversation with Lance. “ _ Pfft _ , you’re joking, right? These are like the  _ worst _ jokes!”

 

“They were  _ funny _ , okay?” Keith muttered through his teeth.

 

“Bull _ shit _ , Keith,” Matt laughed. “If Iron Man and the Silver Surfer teamed up they would be  _ Alloys _ ? What, was he in a science class?”

 

“Didn’t Shiro use that one in High School?” Pidge questioned with a grin.

 

“He  _ did _ !” Matt said. “You didn’t laugh when  _ he _ used it!”

 

“I always expect bad puns from Shiro,” Keith muttered, crossing his arms. “I wasn’t expecting Lance to use it.”

 

“Okay, that’s total bull, Keith,” Pidge argued with a laugh. “Lance uses bad puns all the time.”

 

“Do you like him?” Matt teased.

 

“What–?  _ No _ !” Keith argued, his face turning pink. “It’s not like that.”

 

“ _ Sure _ it isn’t,” Matt teased sarcastically.


	9. Pineapple pizzas and motorbike rides

Keith had agreed with Lance to meet him at the crystal fountain in the middle of campus at two-thirty in the afternoon. There were plenty of students wandering around, but Lance was barely hard to find. He always seemed to make himself pop out— that Saturday he decided to wear a snapback backwards in a galaxy print with the word “send”, his jacket absent.

 

“Send what?” Keith asked, taking off his helmet with a raised eyebrow.

 

Lance grinned and turned his hat around the right way. Underneath the bill it said “nudes”.

 

Keith narrowed his eyes. “Really?”

 

“Yes, really,” Lance replied, satisfied with the reaction. He turned his snapback around and hopped off the edge of the fountain pillar. “So, where’s your overnight stuff?” He asked, hopping onto Keith’s motorbike with a curious look.

 

Without a word, Keith opened up a compartment between his seat and the handlebars. Inside was a small black bag with what Lance assumed was his clothes, toothbrush and toothpaste.

 

“That’s actually really cool, Mullet,” Lance said.

 

Keith pulled out his bag and grabbed the spare helmet from underneath. He handed it to Lance.

 

“Safety first,” Keith said with a grin, mocking his brother.

 

“But where do I put my hat?” Lance muttered, taking it off.

 

“I’ll put it in here,” Keith said, putting his bag back into the compartment. “It’ll be safe, I promise.”

 

“This is my favorite hat, you know,” Lance explained, handing it to Keith. “If you’re lying—!”

 

“I’m not lying, Lance,” Keith assured, carefully placing the hat on top of his bag. He closed the compartment. “I promise.”

 

“Alright, fine,” Lance muttered before putting the helmet on.

 

“You’re gonna want to hang on tight,” Keith explained, starting his bike.

 

“Why?” Lance asked, loudly over the revving engine.

 

“I told you, I like to go fast,” Keith explained with a wide smile before putting on his own hemelt.

 

The moment Keith kicked up the kickstand, he quickly got up to speed. Lance was almost too slow to react but managed to latch onto Keith’s red flannel shirt that was underneath his leather jacket. He heard Keith laugh through his helmet as they sped down the road towards the interstate.

 

“You’re  _ insane _ !” Lance screamed, hanging onto Keith for dear life.

 

“Just trust me!” Keith shouted with a chuckle. 

 

“What, are you gonna jump off a cliff next?”

 

“Oh, come on, I’m not Evel Knievel!”

 

“You sure are driving like him!”

 

“I’m only going ten over the limit.”

 

“ _ Ten _ ?!”

 

“Relax, Chatter Box; we’ll get there in one piece, I promise.”

 

And as Keith promised, they made it to the hotel in one piece. Lance, of course, was very annoyed, but Keith only chuckled, responding with the old meme “but did you die?”. Lance couldn’t argue with the meme, even if he wanted to.

 

They entered the hotel, a pretty cheap one, but once they had checked in and headed to their room Lanced noticed that Keith had picked an extremely nice room. The only problem was that there was only a double bed.

 

“Uh, Keith?” Lance asked, pointing to the bed.

 

“Double bed rooms are cheaper than two twin bed rooms,” Keith explained. “Usually I sleep on the floor anyway, so you can take the bed.”

 

“Well, I mean you paid for the room,” Lance argued.

 

Keith raised an eyebrow as he put his bag on a chair. “Are you really going to argue about who’s sleeping on the bed?”

 

“It’s only fair,” Lance muttered.

 

“You don’t want to give up the bed, do you?”

 

Lance didn’t answer.

 

“Yeah, I thought so,” Keith muttered, rummaging through his pockets. He made sure that his wallet was there, the tickets, and his phone. They were, so he plopped onto a different chair and lounged.

 

“So when does the concert start?” Lance asked.

 

“Like seven,” Keith replied.

 

“So, like in an hour?”

 

“Yeah, just about,” He said. “Do you want to grab something to eat before then or do you want to just head down to the concert?”

 

“I’m starving,” Lance whined. “What’s good around here anyway?”

 

Keith smirked. “Glad you asked.”

* * *

 

“ _ Vrepit Sal’s _ ?” Lance questioned, reading the big store front sign.

 

“It’s a pizza place,” Keith replied with a grin as he parked his bike. 

 

The two were downtown where most of the smaller stores were. Vrepit Sal’s was a smaller store with little to no seating but a wide selection of different types of pizzas from vegan to meat lovers. Despite how small and cramped it might have been, the store itself smelled  _ amazing _ .

 

“What do you want?” Keith asked. 

 

“What do you usually get?”

 

“Depends,” Keith replied. “I’m pretty sure I’ve had basically all of them. Can never go wrong with pepperoni though.”

 

“So,” Lance trailed the word awkwardly. He rubbed his neck. “How’s their pineapple pizza?”

 

Keith blinked. “I don’t think I’ve actually tried that one yet.”

 

Lance stared at Keith. “So, you’re not, like, disgusted?”

 

“Why?”

 

“I mean,  _ hello _ !” Lance exclaimed. “Pineapple? On pizza?”

 

“I’ve had pizza with fries on top of it,” Keith muttered. “What’s the big deal?”

 

“You mean you’re not alarmed by the idea that I like what basically ninety percent of the population thinks doesn’t work?” Lance asked.

 

“I don’t see a problem with it,” Keith said with a shrug, hands in his pockets. He looked back at the display with the different pizzas already ready to order. “You know what, I think I might go with pineapple,” Keith said, in thought. “I’m guessing that’s what you want?”

 

“Well, yeah,” Lance muttered, still a little surprised.

 

Keith grabbed his wallet from his pocket and took out some cash. “Two pineapple’s, please?”

 

Once Keith handed the cashier the money, who then grabbed two slices of the displayed pineapple pizza and handed it to him. Keith handed one to Lance before the cashier gave him his change. The two walked out and hung around Keith’s bike.

 

“I’m gonna warn you, pineapple is an acquired taste,” Lance muttered before taking a bite.

 

Without a word, Keith looked at Lance straight in the eye and took a bite, himself. He didn’t have a disgusted look on his face nor did he spit it out. In fact, he looked pretty content.

 

“What, can I say?” Keith explained after swallowing. “I like trying new things.”

 

After a couple minutes of silence, Keith got a call. It was a generic ringtone. He took out his phone and answered it with a mouth full of food.

 

“Hey, Shiro,” Keith answered with a grin, food still in his mouth. He swallowed. “Yeah, we’re just at Sal’s— No, Pidge didn’t sneak away with me.”

 

Lance raised an eyebrow.

 

“Hey, Shiro; I’m putting you on speaker,” Keith said before pulling his phone away and tapping the speaker button.

 

“—Why are you doing that?” 

 

“Shiro, say hi to Lance,” Keith said with a grin.

 

“Lance as in your lab partner?”

 

“Aren’t you the one I saw scolding Keith the other day when he lost his voice?” Lance asked.

 

“That would be me,” Shiro said. “My name is Takashi Shirogane, Keith’s brother.”

 

“I think I remember the brother part,” Lance muttered. “So they call you by your last name?”

 

“Yeah, and you like Twentyone Pilots?” Shiro asked.

 

“Never heard of them,” Lance answered. “But I’m willing to try it out.”

 

“Fair enough,” Shiro replied. “So, by the sounds of it, Keith took you to Vrepit Sal’s; what did you guys get?”

 

“It’s a lot better than what you usually get,” Keith muttered before taking another bite of his slice.

 

“Nothing beats a cheese pizza, Keith.”

 

Keith yawned. “Boring.”

 

“So what did  _ you _ get?”

 

“Pineapple.”

 

“ _ Pineapple _ ?!”

 

“I gotta admit, it’s better than that burger and fries one I had last time,” Keith muttered.

 

“That one looked gross.”

 

“It wasn’t that bad.”

 

“But why would you even  _ think _ about buying a pizza with a fruit on it?”

 

“I wanted to try it,” Keith argued. “Besides, Lance likes ‘em.”

 

“Keith, you don’t mean—!”

 

“— _ Hey _ , Shiro, how’s that date with your wife?” Keith interrupted quickly.

 

“We’re just waiting for our food now, so I called to check up on you,” Shiro muttered. There was an ever looming annoyed tone in his voice. “I wanted to make sure you got there safely.”

 

“With how fast he was going on the interstate?” Lance scoffed. “I’m surprised we’re in one piece.”

 

“But did you die?”

 

“Keith, I told you a million times—  _ you drive a bike _ ! You need to be careful on the interstate!”

 

“Look, it’s fine, Shiro,” Keith sighed. 

 

“Did you at least wear helmets?”

 

“ _ Yes, mom _ ,” Keith mocked before sticking his tongue out.

 

“Keith,” Shiro scolded.

 

“We wore helmets, I promise,” Keith said with a sigh.

 

“Okay,” Shiro said. “Just be careful tonight okay? And have fun.”

 

“You too, bro,” Keith said with a half smile. “We should probably get goin’; the concert’s in a couple of minutes from now.”

 

Keith ended the call. He crumbled up the paper from his pizza and tossed it into the nearby trashcan. Once Lance had finished his food, he walked over to the same trash can and tossed his trash away as well.

 

Once they had gotten back on the road, they traveled through the city. The sun was pretty close to the other side of the skyline. Maybe it was just that Lance hadn’t really been in a big city before, but it was just mesmerising. He started to wonder what the concert would be like.

 

“Hey, so what’s it gonna be like?” Lance asked when they stopped at a light.

 

“There’s a lot of interaction with the crowd and the band,” Keith explained. “They always crowd surf,” He added with a chuckle. “My favorite is when they play Guns for Hands, though. It sends chills down your spine.”

 

“How do you mean?”

 

“It’s better to experience it for yourself,” Keith explained.

 

The light turned green and Keith turned the corner.

 

When they reached the concert hall, the parking lot was packed with cars. It was insane how many people wanted to go see a band so much in person. It was so packed that Keith had to park pretty far from the entrance. Keith opened the storage compartment and handed Lance’s hat to him.

 

The walk to the doors told Lance that maybe he should have brought his jacket. The nice weather lately had been a nice change from the chill of autumn. He had almost forgotten what time of the year it was and how cold it was supposed to be.

 

Once they got inside the building, the lobby was filled with people in the band’s shirts and hats. They all made him think of Keith which explained to Lance why he liked them.

 

“So, you got the tickets, right?” Lance teased with a grin.

 

Keith held them up, turned his head to Lance and smirked. “Take one, Chatter Box.”


	10. Sparks in September

It had seemed that Keith had managed to get them to a pretty decent spot on the ground despite getting there much later than everyone else. It was obvious that he had done this plenty of times before, however, it still confused him when he had kept both his flannel and jacket on even though they were in a room filled with warm bodies.

 

The concert was so much more than Lance had expected. The music, surprisingly, was a lot more than just what he thought emo music was. Oddly enough, he enjoyed it. It was fun interacting with the band, even holding up the drummer during a crowd surf.

 

During the many hours of non-stop music and crowd screaming, Lance saw a totally different side of Keith that he thought never existed. It wasn’t moody, or snarky, or even  _ depressing _ — it was excited, happy,  _ inspired _ . It was like Keith was a whole new person.

 

It was sort of attractive.

 

It got to a point when the rest of the crowd started moving closer and closer together. It reeked of smelly pits and body odor, but that wasn’t what bothered Lance. It was that he and Keith were up against each other in the crowd of screaming fans.

 

For a moment, he wasn’t focused on the noise and as it seemed neither was Keith. The music was obviously playing, but he could hear his own heart beating loudly in his ear. He felt his face heat up, and he feared it wasn’t because of the humidity in the room. 

 

It was hard to see with the colored lights and darkness, but Lance could tell— it wasn’t just  _ him _ feeling this way. Keith’s face was just as red.

 

“Can I kiss you?” Lance blurted out.

 

Keith blinked. “What?”

 

“Uh,” Lance stammered. “Can—Can I kiss you?”

 

“One more time?”

 

“I want to kiss you?”

 

“You want to kiss  _ me _ ?” Keith repeated, unconvinced.

 

“I’ve said it three times, what else do you want?”

  
  
“I thought you didn’t like me.”   


  
“And I thought you didn’t like me a while ago,” Lance retorted. “Opinions can change, Mullet. Just kiss me already.” 

 

Lance, of course, didn’t wait for Keith to say yes. He had grown much too impatient for that. The moment he had finished speaking his last word, he leaned in and pressed his lips against Keith’s. Lance wrapped his arm around Keith’s waist, Keith placing his hands on Lance’s chest. The concert floor seemed to have gone silent despite the two knowing that the concert was still going on. Time seemed to slow as if once they had started lip lock it triggered it to do so.

 

Lance was the one to pull away, letting go of Keith, his face growing even redder as he did so.  He turned his head, making his brain spin like a top; and he covered his mouth, trying to grasp onto what he had felt.

 

Keith had done the same, although he didn’t turn his head. 

 

After a moment of silence, Lance spoke up.

 

“You’re a surprisingly good kisser,” Lance muttered, trying to ignore the beating in his chest.

 

“Oh, so you assume I’ve never kissed anyone before?” Keith muttered sarcastically, narrowing his eyes at Lance with a grin.

 

“I mean— well…” Lance paused. “Okay, I might have, but you’re gloomy, angry Kogane.”

 

Keith rolled his eyes. “Fair point, I guess,” He said.

 

“Why don’t you act like this all the time?” Lance asked, tilting his head.

 

Keith didn’t have an answer for that. Well, there was a reason, and he  _ did _ have an answer, but that answer he just didn’t have the nerve to tell. It was one thing when he had told Pidge and Matt about his adoptive father’s abuse when they were younger, it was another trying to tell a classmate who he only just started to really understand. Instead, Keith lied like most other times.

 

“I gave up trying to get along with other people,” Keith said. “Music is a lot easier to relate to.”

 

Of course, it was a half-truth. Music was a different sort of language, and Keith related a little too well. However, he never gave up trying to get along with people. He never had the intention to get along with anyone, but that was a truth he was too nervous to explain. He was lucky Shiro hadn’t been there, or else he might have said something.

 

Keith stopped. He tuned into the concert again and a familiar beginning played. Guns for Hands. It wasn’t too hard to identify it, not to mention the entire crowd lifted up their hands forming a typical gun sign. 

 

For the majority of the song, the crowd kept their gun shaped hands up in the air. Lance wondered what was so special about the gesture. It couldn’t have been just the hands and the crowd jumping around because that was nothing special either. 

 

Lance paid close attention to the lyrics.  _ And you’re swearing to your parents that it will never happen again _ . It wasn’t a mystery why people connected to these songs. Lance, himself, started to connect to it too. 

 

_ I'm trying, I'm trying to sleep _

_ I'm trying, I'm trying to sleep _

_ But I can't, but I can't when you all have _

_ Guns for hands yeah _

 

Lance couldn’t help but love the chorus. It was fluid and it could easily get stuck in your head. He couldn’t help but move his body to the music. Despite how emo it was, Lance couldn’t deny it was good music. Keith surprisingly had good taste. Of course, there was still a lot of things that had surprised him that night.

 

That included what he was going to do next. 

 

While awkwardly holding up one hand like the rest of the crowd, he moved his body to the music, getting closer to Keith even though they were already in each other’s personal space. He had to know if what he felt before was  _ real _ , that it wasn’t a fluke as if it were just because of the moment.

 

_ Let's take this a second at a time _

_ Let's take this one song, this one rhyme _

_ Together, let's breathe _

_ Together, to the beat _

 

Lance twirled Keith around with his free hand, facing him. He grins, pulling him closer. He didn’t ask for it this time, and it seemed that Keith was more than willing to giving it.

 

_ That you all have guns _

_ And you never put the safety on _

_ And you all have plans _

_ To take it, to take it, don’t take it, take it, take it _

 

This time it was different. Lance was fully aware of what he was feeling. There was a spark. And that spark was  _ amazing _ . At that moment, Lance  _ knew _ it was real as real could be. And from the look of Keith when they pulled away, he suspected that he felt the same way.

 

_ The solution is, I see a whole room of these mutant kids _

_ Fused at the wrist, I simply tell them they should shoot at this _

_ Simply suggest my chest and this confused music, it's _

_ Obviously best for them to turn their guns to a fist _

 

At the same moment that the band had sung those last words, the entire crowd turned their gun shaped hands into fists. That included  Keith; however, that wasn’t all that he did. The moment had sent a chill down his spine just as mullet had promised, but Lance had the suspicion that the reason wasn’t the same as he had implied. It was Keith’s turn this time. He awkwardly dipped Lance as he kissed him, his fist pumped above his head. Lance had a surprised look on his face.

 

The moment had maybe lasted longer than their first kiss. In that time, Lance noticed the little details in Keith’s face. There were tiny scars that failed to heal properly, in fact, there were ones in his lips that he could feel against his own. He had always known that Keith always riddled himself with injuries, but it didn’t occur to him until now that there were so  _ many _ .

 

It was no wonder that the gremlin seemed so scared before.

 

Once they had finally pulled away, the song ended. Lance could hear his heart beating in his ears, still dipped in Keith’s arms that were surprisingly sturdy and safe.

 

It felt like only moments when the concert had ended, but the moment that Lance stepped outside, he was reminded that autumn nights were  _ cold _ . Instantly, he found himself rubbing his forearms for warmth as they walked towards Keith’s bike.

 

“You should have brought a jacket,” Keith said flatly, hands in his pockets.

 

“Look, I didn’t think it was gonna get  _ this _ cold, alright?” Lance shot back, giving Keith a pout.

 

“Lance, it’s  _ September _ ,” Keith said with a snort.

 

“So?” Lance said a little louder than intended.

 

Keith rolled his eyes before casually pulling off his leather jacket and wrapping it around Lance’s shoulders. Lance’s face felt warm because of it, the thought of them kissing just moments ago all of a sudden rushing through his head, the memory still fresh in his mind. 

 

“Thanks,” Lance said quietly, pulling the jacket farther around his shoulders.

 

They walked to Keith’s bike in silence. They both avoided eye contact, acutely aware that their cheeks were red and it wasn’t because of the cold. 

 

The silence followed them back to the hotel room. Keith led, of course, being the bearer of the room key. Lance, still donning Keith’s jacket, was close behind with an oddly firm grip on leather. Once they entered the hotel room, Lance sat down on the bed the leather jacket still wrapped around his shoulders. Keith, on the other hand, went and sat on the chair with his bag.

 

The awkward silence continued until Keith couldn’t take it anymore.

 

“I, ah,” Keith paused. “I’m sorry about— about that last one.”

 

“What?”

 

“The, uh, kiss,” he repeated, gaze turned away.

 

“What are you  _ talking _ about?” Lance questioned. “I was the one who started it.”

 

“I just,” Keith sighed. “We barely know each other.”

 

“I beg to differ,” Lance said with a cocky expression and crossing his arms. “I know you like Mothman, going fast, and surprisingly my stupid jokes that even makes _Hunk_ roll his eyes.”

 

Keith let out a small laugh. “Point taken,” he said.

 

“I also know just by looking at what you wear and your bike, your favorite color is red,” Lance continued. 

 

“No, really?” Keith said sarcastically. “So I'm guessing blue is yours?”

 

“See! You know my favorite color too!”

 

“Cause you always wear the same stupid blue jersey cut!”

 

“I’ll have you know I have multiples of that shirt!”

 

“Oh really?”

 

“ _ Yes, _ really!”

 

“I’m gonna guess you also get the same caramel-mocha latte with extra cream and sugar every day from the same coffee shop down Main street with that barista with the dread pigtails?”

 

“I feel attacked!” Lance exclaimed, placing his hand on his chest. “And her name is Nyma!” He paused. “She also works at the Taco place on the same street on weekends.”

 

“That sounds like  _ stalker _ talk, McClain.”

 

“No comment.”

 

Keith grinned. 

 

“Oh, wipe that grin off your face, Mullethead!” Lance snapped bitterly. He gave out a huff, however not long after he developed a sly grin of his own. “At least I don’t constantly listen to emo music on the daily!”

 

“Like your Shakira playlist you sent me the other night is any better than MCR.”

 

“Uh, yeah it is because, unlike MCR,  _ she’s still alive _ !”

 

Keith gasped. “I am  _ triggered _ , you take that back Lance  _ Chatter Box _ McClain!” He snapped playfully as he stood up from his chair.

 

“Make me,  _ Keith Mullethead Kogane _ !” Lance shouted back standing on his knees on the bed.

 

“Maybe I will!” Keith said loudly, taking a stand at the end of the bed.

 

“Then  _ do it _ ,” Lance provoked with a shit eating grin on his face.

  
There was barely a heartbeat between before Keith did  _ exactly _ what Lance had implied. Their lips locked, their arms wrapped tightly around each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YALL
> 
> It's been like monTHS
> 
> but I'm back in my groove and here ya go you got the first... four kisses yep. I did mention this wasn't gonna be slow burn yeah? Also, I mighta triggered some emos but that's cool. I'm suffering too. I also used typical first date cliche's, sue me.
> 
> I know this isn't my most popular one but like this fic is special to me in my heart. I'm super thankful for the positive feedback that this fic is getting despite how little audience it has compared to The Good in Us.
> 
> I hope yall are ready for some heat in the next chapter ;)


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